


It’s a Pretty Big World for the Meek

by woahpip



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty has words of wisdom, F/M, FP is a shitty dad, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jughead is scared, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, also background Archie is scared of Cheryl, basically a musing on alcoholism, drunk!jughead, implied future bughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/pseuds/woahpip
Summary: Spirits intimidated him. On FP’s worst nights, he’d skip the beer and head straight for them: mid-shelf whiskey when he could find the cash, and cheap college vodka when he had to steal from Gladys. On those nights his parents screams rose so much in volume the trailer would shake; Jughead would press torn pieces of his old shirts into Jellybean’s ears so she could sleep.All alcohol was ruining his family but spirits were the main destroyers.--Jughead muses alcoholism and the summer to come at a Thornhill party. Pre-canon.





	It’s a Pretty Big World for the Meek

**Author's Note:**

> TW for alcoholism/alcohol abuse
> 
> Mainly introspective Jughead w/ some implied future bughead.

“Archie….do I really have to go?”

 

Archie paused, mid-buttoning his shirt and just glared at his best friend.

 

“Of course Jug. It’s the party that opens the summer. We can’t do any of the things we planned without this starting it.” Archie shrugged like it all made sense.

 

Jughead scowled but continued getting ready for Cheryl Blossom’s “It’s Fucking Summer” party. At creepy ass Thornhill. For anyone else he wouldn’t do it, but him and Archie had Big, Big Plans for the summer. The normal video games and Pop’s outings would culminate in a roadtrip through upstate New York and Ohio, coming back to Riverdale at the end of their two week loop. Fred Andrews approved it, trusting Archie with his truck even though he just got his driver’s license, and Jug’s parents have been…not present enough to have a comment besides, “That sounds fun.”

 

And it did sound fun. Much better than a rich bitch party where all he’d find interesting is the food. But he is loyal, too much so. He goes to the party.

 

—

 

The Blossom’s pool was already up and running, despite the seasonly low temperatures plaguing Riverdale as of late. Several scantily clad boys and girls he knew to be a few years older than him were sitting out, sipping pricey liquor from solo cups. Some dangled their legs into the water, others decided to dry hump on bright beach chairs. A few were moving alone in the water, almost dancing and then diving under. It unnerved Jughead to see their carefree movements, probably aided by drugs and definitely aided by alcohol. He’s always wanted that kind of freedom.

 

Jughead rolls his head around and pops his neck before heading after Archie and into Thornhill. Freedom at his age is hard to find— the roadtrip would help ease the urge to run away for good.

 

 

Blood red lips meet them at the door, pursed in preparation to insult.

 

“I have people to clean up after the party Archie. You didn’t need to bring hired help.” She smiled big in Jughead’s direction, eyeballs empty.

 

“Come come you two, Archie can get the tour from me. Jughead, you can stay I guess. But be a dear, don’t be like your father and steal the expensive alcohol. Leave some for the rest of us.” Before he can shout a reply, Cheryl has laced her fingers with Archie’s and pulled him down a dark hallway shrouded with smoke; Archie had nothing to say in return, just an open mouth stare Jughead knew as the beginning of the spiraling thought process known as, “I might actually get laid.”

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

—

 

Jughead had barely scarfed his way through a plate of stuffed mushrooms when his tormentor for the past year strutted into the kitchen. Reggie Mantle looked fucked already; a half drunk fifth of vodka clutched in one arm, some girl who just graduated on the other side. They swung together in some drunken balance dance before the girl squealed out “REGGIE WE NEED ICE.” And Reggie nodded, serious-faced like it was life or death. Ice for the vodka.

 

If freshman year taught Jughead anything it was that Reggie wasn’t nice, but seeing the boy’s face without any jokiness made him weary: was he a mean drunk? The girl on his arm seemed okay with the lack of smile and Reggie didn’t push her back through the doors when she squealed, so Jug guessed it was a normal night.

 

“Fucking Jughead Jones. You working the kitchen or something. Grab the pretty girl some ice.” Reggie thrusted two red cups at Jug and turned around, talking to another varsity football star that just arrived.

 

Of course Jughead didn’t want to get them ice, but he didn’t want to get his ass beat in front of all these people either. He weighed his options and then turned to the ice bucket, putting his frustrations into intensely stabbing the ice to break it up. He turns again, wordlessly handing Reggie the cups. The older boy’s face turned into a sneer but he stops short of spatting out an insult.

 

 

The pair leaves and Jughead is left alone again to admire tea sandwiches too delicate for this kind of _soiree._

 

Then he starts thinking about the vodka Reggie had.

 

Spirits intimidated him. On FP’s worst nights, he’d skip the beer and head straight for them: mid-shelf whiskey when he could find the cash, and cheap college vodka when he had to steal from Gladys. On those nights his parents screams rose so much in volume the trailer would shake; Jughead would press torn pieces of his old shirts into Jellybean’s ears so she could sleep. 

 

All alcohol was ruining his family but spirits were the main destroyers.

 

On the counter beside the ice, he noticed a small handle of Hendricks— gin. He knew from hanging around the Wyrm that gin was either loved or hated, hardly any in between. Someone must have wanted to look fancy and then decided they didn’t like it.

 

Nobody loves performing pretentiousness like Jughead thought. He took a swig from the bottle and even though he cringed, he appreciated it. Like drinking an effervescent tree. A quick peak around the Thornhill kitchen and Jug found tonic water; he poured himself a real cocktail and stuck the glass bottle in his flannel pocket.

 

—

 

It couldn’t have been long after that first drink when he found himself outside and in the Blossom Family Cemetary. Sloshed. The little bottle almost gone and his brain ebbed into a glorious fuzz.

 

No wonder FP stays drunk.

 

He lets himself plop onto a bench and hopes no god smites him for encroaching on the dead. The night is chilly, reminding Jug more of a fall night than the warm, bright beginnings of summer. He kept running one thought over and over again in his brain. “It feels good to be drunk.”

 

Some part of him knew that’s not good. That’s how these things get passed down and started by each new generation. Papa Forsythe liked the booze and FP tried it and it stuck. Now Jughead will too. He bites his lower lip; Gladys had been saying lately how much like his father Jug was. Dark hair, too observant. Sounded like FP when he was upset.

 

His mother had not hugged him in a while. She hadn’t given him any more attention than what’s required to sustain him.

 

He thinks he just reminds her too much of her marriage, one that can’t hang on in the shape it’s in. There was another swig of gin in his mouth but he spat it back out. What if he ends up just like his father?

 

“Jug? Is that you?”

 

A soft voice he’s heard over and over again tears him from his destructive thoughts. Betty Cooper is making her way to him at the center of the cemetery, eyes wearily looking to make sure she doesn’t step on someone’s grave.

 

It’s cute she cares about someone else's dead, he thinks. 

 

“Cooper. Who knew our good girl would be at the hot party and end up amongst the forgotten, huh?” He knew he sounded overdramatic but she interrupted his inner turmoil. And she could handle it; they aren’t as close as they were in middle school but he knows Cooper drama is nothing to fucking joke about.

 

“I’m here for Polly really,” Betty says as she finally meets him on the bench, perching herself on the other side. 

 

“She immediately left me to latch onto Jason. So similar to a leach.” 

 

Jughead opened his mouth to make some smartass comment about her sisters odd, whirlwind romance with the male Blossom twin but Betty beat him with another comment.

 

“I saw Cheryl with Archie. She had his shirt on and no pants and they were…talking like a couple almost? It was weird. At least I missed her tongue down his throat.” Her voice went soft and eyes fell, staring at a loose clob of soil near her feet.

 

So she wasn’t over her crush yet. Jughead had seen it fester for years. One part of him saw the appeal: the girl next door, the neighbor boy. All teen movies he’d been forced to watch pushed the narrative, and he knew they made Betty more confident. It was what happened in a perfect world.

 

He also knew Archie. The boy with wandering eyes and hands, who also had multiple girls he was into, and who always had a backup plan. The most recent of Archie’s plans that involved Betty had been third grade—ever since, she has been the best friend. The one that gave great advice about what girls wanted, who helped Archie talk to his conquests and find out what they liked. She did great valentines shopping, and always lied and said a Pop’s milkshake was thanks enough.

 

Jughead thought it sucked for Betty to have a crush on a boy who she knew could never make the effort on his own. He knew Betty would have someone one day, who appreciated that she was the glue that held things together. She deserved the nice things.

 

While wading through all those thoughts, he stayed silent. Betty peeled off a sandal and let her foot drag through the grass and dirt. He guesses it was the alcohol in him and not a real reaction, but he reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

 

“There’s always the summer, and next year. Nothing’s out of reach yet.”

 

And then he did say one of his many raging thoughts.

 

“You deserve the nice things.”

 

Her grin was small, but there. He flushed, not knowing why he was so happy with making her feel better.

 

“Thanks Juggie.” She ducked her head again after using the old nickname. Jughead knew then his blush was now a permanent fixture of his face. She quickly composed herself and looked up again. 

 

“Can I have a sip of that?” She gestured towards the solo cup and Jug cringed. He hoped she liked gin.

 

Her sip left her hacking, face screwed up in disgust. 

 

“I didn’t knew you were drinking Jug. I thought it was…water or soda or something.” She gave him a once over. For some reason now he wanted to shake her and scream “HOW DID YOU KNOW.” It’s like she read his thoughts earlier.

 

They had not been close enough for him to ever tell her of FP, but he’s sure her nosy mother has laid out exactly what those on the Southside did with their lives. And rumors about his parents marriage have been thrown around ever since Jughead’s family had to move from a house in Riverdale to a trailer in Sunnyside; FP was his father’s son. It was safe to assume.

 

She noticed he had grown angry and she scooted herself a little closer to the furthest end of the bench. He recognized he might be scaring her.

 

He thought of Reggie earlier. Maybe he was normal and Jug was the angry drunk. 

 

He forced himself to calm down, and for some reason told her a half-truth.

 

“I usually try not to but I…felt compelled. Beginning of summer and all. Plus, someone left a a full bottle on the counter and you _know_ how I am about leaving leftovers around.” He hoped that put her somewhat at ease.

 

And she did smile, even though she knew he was deflecting.

 

“One drink doesn’t mean a lifetime of drinks Juggie.”

 

What a simple fucking statement, he thinks after she first says it. Too fucking simple. But he repeats her words in his head and he feels lighter already. He thinks next time he’s in this situation he might not give up as easy.

 

When he returns to his body, turning to answer her, Betty is already up to make her exit. She lifts her phone into his line of sight.

 

“Polly texted. She is almost too drunk to sneak back through the window. I got to get her back. You have a good summer Juggie.”

 

She walks and meets Jason outside the door of Thornhill to collect Polly, and then she’s gone.

 

—

 

Somehow he makes his way back into the kitchen. Archie is there, back into his button up and thankfully sans Cheryl. He claps Jug on the back.

 

“Tonight has been weird bro. Let’s get back.” Jughead does nothing but nod, noticing a few bruises, mottled with teeth marks and stained with red lipstick, all over Archie’s neck. He laughs out loud but Archie ignores him. Cheryl must have been just too much; a fantasy Archie happily could checkmark, never to return again.

 

 

They walk back to the Andrews home, Jughead finally getting Archie to name some songs to add to the road trip playlist. The dark haired boy had been the most outwardly excited one, but he was overjoyed that Archie finally contributed something. Meant he was excited too.

 

Walking upstairs, they both know to skip the squeaky step and return to the bedroom with Fred none of the wiser. Immediately, Archie passes out face first into his pillow, snores quietly droning through the room.

 

Jughead fixes his blankets over the air mattress they laid out earlier, and stared out the window.

 

There, in the pinkish light of her bedroom was Betty Cooper. Not in her normal cardigan, without her normal ponytail. Her hair was down over her shoulders, and a long sleeve Riverdale football shirt he knew to be Archie’s was all he could see of her attire. He was still feeling brave from the drink, so he waved to her goodnight. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and returned the wave.

 

—

 

Jughead thought before he slept. He thought of summer, and all the fun two boys could have together away from home. He thought of Jelly, and the things they could do before he left. He held a little hope Gladys might kiss him goodbye. He had even smaller hope FP would learn his marriage was on it’s last leg, and try to do something about it.

 

And his last thought before slumber, in the midst of all the things that summer could become was: Maybe it’s the year Betty Cooper gets over Archie Andrews. Not because Jug wanted her…he didn’t know that yet. But because she saw the good in him even when everyone around her sees otherwise.

 

He wants her to see that goodness in herself.

 

—

 

What a summer it would turn out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Un-beta'd. I feel like there are a ton of tense issues, I tried to catch where I can.
> 
> Title comes from the song Faith by Bellevue Days.


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